


The Flames of Good Intentions

by thetransgirlwhoneverwas



Series: Fictober 2019 [9]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 13:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20967695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetransgirlwhoneverwas/pseuds/thetransgirlwhoneverwas
Summary: Charley's dreams of exploring and adventure came true when she met the Doctor. She wants to do something to show her appreciation, but the best of intentions can end in disaster when playing with forces one does not understand.





	The Flames of Good Intentions

The Doctor’s eyes snapped open to the smell of smoke filling the TARDIS control room and the Cloister Bell ringing.

“Charley?!” was his first response. Whatever was causing the danger could wait until after his companion was safe. He listened for any sign of her. Nothing.

“Charley!” he called again, worried now. Still no response.

“Okay, okay, give me a scan of the inside, where’s Charley?” he said to the console, pressing buttons to bring up his command as fast as he could. The kitchen. Why was she in the TARDIS kitchen? It didn’t matter, he decided, as he sprinted into the corridor, sprinted back to look at the screen to find out where the kitchen actually was at that moment, and sprinted in the other direction to find Charley.

Smoke continued to fill the corridors, and no matter which way he turned he seemed to be running into it. Whatever was wrong was wrong deep inside the TARDIS. He flung himself down one final corridor, grabbing the door frame and swinging into the kitchen announcing “Charley, are you here? We have to go, there’s something wrong with the TARDIS!”

Charley turned around and the Doctor processed what he saw finally: his companion stood in front of an open door billowing smoke, holding a tray containing a rather burnt chicken.

“Oh.”

“Um…”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Charley looked at the floor, but her eyes darted in the direction of the Doctor a couple of times.

The Doctor also looked down, trying his absolute best not to smirk and failing.

“I thought it was about time I learned to cook for myself,” Charley explained, not taking her eyes away from the floor for more than a tenth of a second at a time. “And I wanted to do something nice for you, for everything you’ve done for me. It...hasn’t gone well.”

“I’d say that’s an understatement,” the Doctor replied, giving up on his attempt at not smirking. The Cloister Bell continued to ring until the Doctor directed a particularly sardonic glare at a nearby wall and it stopped, the silence sounding almost guilty. The smoke pouring from the oven was starting to thin out, and the Doctor could see more clearly now that Charley had obviously been attempting to prepare quite an impressive Sunday lunch; possibly too high for a first step, he thought, as evidenced by the multiple cookbooks open around the kitchen and multiple different components to a roast in various stages of completion. A lot of thought had clearly gone into the venture, he mused to himself, if not quite enough planning. He appreciated it immensely nonetheless, and made a mental note to make sure Charley knew he did.

“Tell you what, Charley,” he continued. “Why don’t I give you some lessons? I learned from the best. In face, Ainsley Harriott told me that my soufflé was divi-”

“I’d love that, Doctor!” Charley interrupted, genuine, but eager to avoid another conversation peppered with names she had never heard of before, most of which were from after her time. She did want to learn to cook, and had the ulterior motive of wanting to spend as much time with the Doctor as possible. She appreciated how he was always gentle, and kind, and always told the best jokes, and smelled pleasantly of honey, and then the oven bleeped and the sound brought her back to reality.

“Shall we start tomorrow?” the Doctor asked.

“Perfect!” Charley answered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put this tray down because it’s starting to burn my hands.”


End file.
